12 Rules for Life (Full) ENGLISH

after I was accepted as a crew member (something I am still slightly
embarrassed to admit). When I asked the originator why he chose that
moniker, he said, wittily and absurdly, “Because you look nothing like him.”
Working men are often extremely funny, in a caustic, biting, insulting
manner (as discussed in Rule 9). They are always harassing each other, partly
for amusement, partly to score points in the eternal dominance battle between
them, but also partly to see what the other guy will do if he is subjected to
social stress. It’s part of the process of character evaluation, as well as
camaraderie. When it works well (when everybody gets, and gives as good as
they get, and can give and take) it’s a big part of what allows men who work
for a living to tolerate or even enjoy laying pipe and working on oil rigs and
lumberjacking and working in restaurant kitchens and all the other hot, dirty,
physically demanding and dangerous work that is still done almost totally by
men.
Not too long after I started on the rail crew, my name was changed to
Howdy. This was a great improvement, as it had a good Western connotation,
and was not obviously linked to that stupid puppet. The next man hired was
not so fortunate. He carried a fancy lunchbucket, which was a mistake, as
brown paper bags were the proper, non-pretentious convention. It was a little
too nice and too new. It looked like maybe his mother had bought it (and
packed it) for him. Thus, it became his name. Lunchbucket was not a good-
humored guy. He bitched about everything, and had a bad attitude.
Everything was someone else’s fault. He was touchy, and none too quick on
the draw.
Lunchbucket couldn’t accept his name, or settle into his job. He adopted an
attitude of condescending irritation when addressed, and reacted to the work
in the same manner. He was not fun to be around, and he couldn’t take a joke.
That’s fatal, on a work crew. After about three days of carrying on with his
ill-humour and general air of hard-done-by superiority, Lunchbucket started
to experience harassment extending well beyond his nickname. He would be
peevishly working away on the line, surrounded by about seventy men,
spread out over a quarter mile. Suddenly a pebble would appear out of
nowhere, flying through the air, aimed at his hardhat. A direct hit would
produce a thunking sound, deeply satisfying to all the quietly attending
onlookers. Even this failed to improve his humour. So, the pebbles got larger.
Lunchbucket would involve himself in something and forget to pay attention.